


Dahlias and Roses

by jesterwastaken



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Juno's birthday, M/M, jupeter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:34:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23370067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesterwastaken/pseuds/jesterwastaken
Summary: Juno forgets his birthday, which makes him all the more pleasantly surprised at what Nureyev has planned.
Relationships: Peter Nureyev & Juno Steel, Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Comments: 9
Kudos: 118





	Dahlias and Roses

**Author's Note:**

> ok so i swear i did start writing this on juno's birthday last year but then forgot about it for three months so im posting it now because i don't give a shit

Lately, the atmosphere aboard the _Carte Blanche_ has been thick, almost suffocating. Buddy has been waiting for the intel on their next target for almost three weeks. Juno’s new “family members” have all shared the same unspoken tension in their wait. Juno however, is completely content with his current situation.

After that night—when Juno finally released the weight in his chest he’d been carrying around Hyperion City for the better part of two years—he and Nureyevhad grown... closer? Nureyev is cold and distant in public, but ravenous in private. Juno’s days are filled with wordless stares and feigned indifference. His nights are filled with countless sensations, new, yet vaguely familiar. The sound of Nureyev’s hot breath against his neck. The friction of skin against skin. Smells of sweat, sex, and cologne. That goddamned cologne. The scent that haunted the former P.I. for weeks after their first encounter. The scent that now plagues his waking moments, ever present on the man at his side, cursing Juno to constant reminder of how long he has to wait until the smell will fill his nostrils like a poison.

Now, Juno sits next to Nureyev around a long dining table, the other members of the Aurinko Crime Family(excluding Jet, oddly)are occupying the other seats at the table. He’s a little farther from the taller man than he’d prefer, but that’s beside the point. Truth be told, he’d rather be wrapping his arms around— _No. Stop it with that_ , Juno thinks.

He looks up from his “only-slightly-burned potatoes” as Rita described them, and sees Buddy push herself up out of her chair. She raises an almost-empty champagne glass and smiles. “Now everyone, I think you all know what I’m about to say.” Rita starts visibly vibrating at this, her hand raised like a schoolgirl and her grin looking more and more strained by the second. Juno has no clue what Buddy is about to say, but he’s afraid Rita might explode if she doesn’t say it soon. “I’d like to wish a—“

“IT’S MISTER STEEL’S BIRTHDAY!!” Rita jumps up as she shouts this, landing roughly back in her chair and exhaling profusely after having held her breath in an attempt to stay quiet. Obviously, her attempt was in vain.

“Err, yes. Thank you Rita,” Buddy says, stifling a chuckle. “Juno, Rita has told me you’re not particularly fond of surprises…” Truthfully, all of this was a surprise to Juno. He’d been so caught up in his… relationship with Nureyev that he hadn’t even realized it was his birthday. Not that he would have done anything about it if he had. “…so I managed to veto most of her plans.”

“Oh, thank god,” Juno laughs. He swears he hears a soft chuckle from Nureyev, and the possibility that he might have heard right occupies his thoughts longer than he’d care to admit.

“However, I did allow her to bake a cake.”

“Damn you, Aurinko,” Juno cracks. Buddy snickers, sitting back down as Jet enters the dining room with a large sheet cake. The icing is a deep red, and Juno notices swooping letters spelling out “Happy Birthday Juno” as Jet sets the cake on the table in front of him. There’s a tall candle set in the middle of the cake, surrounded by orange and green icing flowers at the base. There’s so much edible glitter on it that it’s almost hard to look at.

“It’s red velvet, Mister Steel. Your favorite.” Juno looks up to see Rita’s unrelenting smile. He looks around the table at all the faces staring at him, all the smiles illuminated by the soft candlelight.

And finally he turns to look at Nureyev, a vision of beauty in the soft warm glow. “I think you’re supposed to blow it out, Juno,” Nureyev says. He wears a soft smile and eyes that stare at Juno with admiration, a face that seems uncharacteristically genuine, considering the setting.

“What?” is the only thing Juno can think to get out.

“An old Earth tradition, I believe,” Nureyev replies. “You make a wish and then blow out the candle.”

Juno turns back to the cake. The flame feels warm on his face(At least, he thinks it’s the candle. It could very well be the large amount of blood that was now rushing to his cheeks). “…Thank you,” he finally chokes out. “All of you. This is… the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for my birthday.” Juno is not lying. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and blows, sending the soft light of the candle away into space.

The rest of the table offers a short applause as Jet begins to cut the cake. Buddy smiles, placing a hand on Vespa’s at her side. She addresses the table. “Now, I know we’ve all been a little tense lately, but there’ll be none of that today. Now is a time for celebration and relaxation. Especially you, Juno.” She shifts her attention to Juno, then to Nureyev, then back to Juno. Her gaze is a little too knowing for Juno’s comfort, her smile a little too sly. But, he lets that thought slip away from him as he takes her advice and picks up a fork.

~~~

It’s late when Juno creeps out of his room, later than he is used to. He waited an hour longer than usual at the direction of a note slipped into his pocket sometime during dinner. Juno was displeased. But now, he slinks down the hall with a stealth he was forced to learn after three decades of living in the most suspicious city in the galaxy. He reaches Nureyev’s door, and checks his surroundings once more before rapping gently on the metal.

The door slides open a few seconds later, and there he is. Nureyev stands in the gap between Juno and the bedroom, and for once, Juno takes a second to admire the sight in front of him instead of pushing the taller man into the bedroom. Nureyev wears a gown that looks fit for the highest class parties this side of the cosmos. The maroon fabric hugs Nureyev’s torso, showing off the smooth angularity of his shoulders and hips, but becoming more loose and flowy below the waist. The gold embroidery along the skirt glints in the unfiltered moonlight, and the slit exposing Nureyev’s right leg eats at Juno in all the right ways. He is intoxicating. Juno grins. “Well, don’t you look nice.”

Nureyev smiles back, his sharp canines peeking out, the white a stark contrast to the blood red of his lipstick. “Yes, well I do try to make an effort for special occasions.”

Juno huffs a laugh. “You sure went to a lot of trouble for something that’s just gonna end up on the floor.”

“So hasty, Detective.” Nureyev grabs Juno by the wrist and whisks him into the room, the door sliding shut behind them. Nureyev spins Juno like a goddamned top, and Juno is enjoying every second of it. The taller man swings the detective into a deep dip, his breath hot on Juno’s ear as he whispers, “At least give me the chance to seduce you first.” The two right themselves, and Nureyev walks over to the nightstand, where a comms sits with an audio file loaded. Nureyev presses play, and a hazy recording of a smooth jazz slow jam fills the room. Clarinets and trumpets ebb and flow through the pair’s ears as Nureyev turns back to Juno, outstretching a gloved hand. “May I have this dance?”

Juno sighs and risks a thought at how _lucky_ he is. “Nureyev, you damn flirt,” he says as he takes the thief’s hand.

“As always Juno, your deductions are quite astute.” Nureyev pulls Juno in close, placing a hand on his waist and swaying to the music.

Juno rests his chin on the taller man’s shoulder, letting his eyes fall closed and losing himself in the song. He speaks after a while, “What is this song? It’s… beautiful.”

Nureyev raises his hand from Juno’s waist to the small of his back, rubbing small, soothing circles there. “It’s an old piece from Earth. ‘Moonlight Serenade’ I think it was called. It is… quite taking.”

“…not as taking as you,” Juno mumbles under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

Juno opens his eyes and takes in the rest of the room as they slowly spin. There are candles on virtually every surface. The smell is overpoweringly present, cinnamon and pine. There are petals scattered all about, the floor looking more pink and red than the navy blue of the carpet. Next to almost all of the candles are one or both of two kinds of flowers, seeming to be the same kinds as the petals strewn about. It takes Juno a moment to recognize them, but they are very clear once he takes a close look: Dahlias and Roses.

“It _was_ you.”

“Hm?” Nureyev hums, not quite listening.

“Last year.” Juno replies. He pulls his head back to look the taller man in the eyes. “It was you, y-you sent me flowers. Last year, on my birthday. Dahlias and roses. I-I thought I was just jumping to conclusions, but… but it really _was_ you, wasn’t it?”

Nureyev’s face is now a warm crimson. He smiles sheepishly with closed lips. The look drives Juno insane. He tightens his embrace around Nureyev and stands on his toes to lock lips with the thief. The two had kissed many times since Juno had joined the crew of the _Carte Blanche_ , but this time feels different. It’s tender and gentle. There’s passion behind it, and, dare Juno think it, love?

The song fades out and the two part. Juno stares at Nureyev’s moonlit eyes for a moment, and then pulls the thief into a tight hug. “Thanks,” he says into Nureyev’s neck. “For all of this. I… I don’t deserve it.”

“You do,” was all Nureyev said in reply. His words were accompanied by a sort peck on Juno’s cheek. And for once, Juno believed him.


End file.
